Liar, Liar
by xx.aesthetic
Summary: *One-shot* He won’t hurt too much, hopefully, because he never loved her anyways. No, it was never love. He tells himself this, and one day he hopes to actually believe it. And so he lies, and he lies, and he lies… *SasuSaku* *Slight Lemon ahead*


Authoress' Note: Happy endings don't always exist. That said, this is a tragedy. You have my warning.

Warning: OOC Sasuke. Leave me alone. And slight M.

Disclaimer: No.

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Liar, Liar

"You can have it. I… I trust you Sasuke-kun, so… you can have it."

She says those words slowly, and Sasuke can only watch her quivering lips as she does so. She is hesitant with her words, and it is not like her at all, (Because she is usually _loud_, and screeching his name without a second thought) but he does not question it.

For once, he just listens as she speaks.

She smiles weakly at him, (_Why? _he wonders. _Why lie silently? Why lie to me at all?_) though they both know that she is not convincing him. She is _not_ happy, and he can see that through her false, forced gestures.

She says that she is sorry that she could not be there for the past week, for she had some thinking to do for herself. (_lies, lies, lies_) She apologizes one more time before she unceremoniously enters his apartment, removing her shoes shortly afterward.

He is somehow painfully conscious of how her shoulder brushes his arm as she walks past him. (He likes her—loves her—and will never admit it. _Liar, liar_.)

"Odd as it is, Sasuke-kun," she whispers softly and sweetly. It heals his undamaged ears, and soothes his racing mind. (Because he will never admit that he likes the sound of her mellifluous voice. _He denies, and denies._) "Yes, I want you to have it. It's an odd thing to say, though…" She turns to face him.

She bites her full, pink lip, and raises her eyebrows playfully. He tries hard not to look into her eyes for too long, because he cannot indulge in such a guilty pleasure. Her eyes are too green, to innocent, to deep and just too beautiful for him; it's self pity— he doesn't believe he deserves them. (But he still enjoys looking at them. Because for a moment, everything is alright. And that's all they ever need: _solace, sweet solace_.)

"D'you think it's an okay type of thing for me to ask? For me to request that I give my best friend that which is most important to me?" she asks, crossing her fingers hopefully, though she doesn't expect him to say a thing. (That would break the moment. And that's what she needs: she needs to make every moment count as a memory. _An unforgettable memory_.)

Instead of a sounded answer, he nods slightly. A smile has now made it's way to her lips, (Too sugary a smile for the likes of him. _But he indulges, and indulges, and indulges_.) and her small, soft hand wraps itself around his wrist. (A touch not worthy for him. But it's too wonderful for him to let slide. _And he revels in the warmth of her touch._)

She tugs on his arm slightly, and weaves through his apartment skillfully. He allows himself to be pulled along, because he is curious about her odd behavior. (Every day is a surprise. She always brings something new. _And he wants to see it_.)

It is not long before he recognizes where they are. (Because her scent is intoxicating. It is of flowers and freshness and nothingness, and very distracting. But he wants to be distracted. _Only by her, only her_.) They are in his bedroom, and he is even the more curious at it.

The roseate woman spins on her heels, and she looks him in the onyx eyes _longingly_. (More indulgence, just for him. He is a greedy, greedy man. Because he is never satisfied but just one glance. _Glutton, glutton_.)

She blushes, and it leaves him to wonder on what she plans to do next. "I… I want the world to see it," she says shyly, before maneuvering around the bed and pulling the curtains open. Sunlight spills into the room. (Wide, so wide. They are free, and she was never meant to be caged. Because Sakura is free. _Freedom, freedom_.)

As she walks back toward him (slowly, and he can tell that she is hesitant, but her resolve is firm.) shedding he scarf, and then her jacket, before all that is left is a thin sweater and jeans. She sits on the bed in front of him, and he knows she expects him to kneel before her. And he does. (Because he is submissive. Just for her. Only for her. _All for her_.)

She leans forward bashfully, and places the lightest of kisses upon his lips. (Undeserving, he knows, but he will revel anyways. He will revel, because the first time is always sweetest. And he suddenly likes sweets. _Delicious, delicious_.) Her lips are soft, and realizes that even after the wait, they are as tempting as always.

She pulls away, the pinkest of all blushes having crossed her cheeks. He runs his finger across the redness, because it satisfies him, though not nearly enough. Her feather-soft hand barely covers the back of his, but she guides his none the less, so he can feel every feature of her face. (Seeing isn't good enough. He has to feel. _He only wants more_.)

Sakura releases his hand, and the softest whisper reaches his ears, "Let go, and I'll show you more." His hand retracts from her face.

(_more, more, more_)

He watches as both her hands go down the hem of her sweater, before she pulls the item over her head. She shivers slightly as she feels her short, pink hair brush her shoulders.

He is in awe at the flawlessness on her skin. It is all pale, creamy freshness, (_untouched, unharmed_) until now. His eyes travel from her navel (_he wants more_) to her tight waist (_he needs more_) to the lacy, dark purple lining under her breasts. (_he'll be fulfilled, maybe_)

She reaches out and takes his hand once more, but this time, rests his palm flat on her taut belly. (_he touches, touches, touches_) In a shaky breath, she submits, "Take it slowly," she says, "Don't be rough with me."

His eyebrows raise (_in excitement, maybe_?) "Take me, Sasuke-kun, but please be gentle."

It isn't long before cloths lay messily on the floor, and he is on top of her. (_Finally, finally_.) His thrusts are slow, steady, and gentle, just as she asked. (Obedient, for _her_.) She is writhing underneath, her body arching towards his own eagerly, sweating and moaning and exhausted, though still panting breathlessly for _more_. (He is not the only glutton, he comes to realize. _They are the same_.)

Soon after, she sighs in satisfaction, though he still is not. (_Greedy, greedy, still greedy: he only wants more_) He is giving her sloppy, tired kisses along her jawline, her collarbone, and any piece of skin he can get to. He finally meets her lips, swollen and sore from previous kisses, though still eagerly awaiting another. She attacks his tongue lazily, while attempting to labor her breath.

For the rest of the day, they simply lie there at her request.

He doesn't question it.

In the morning, right before she leaves, she whispers in his ear, knowing full and well that he's awake: "I'm glad that I gave it to you, Sasuke-kun, and not anybody else… because I love you." She hopes to steal one last tender kiss without his knowledge, but he is awake and kisses he back.

Before he can say anything for the first time since their meeting yesterday, she is gone. And as he lays there, alone and deprived of her warmth, an odd feeling stirs within him. What is it that he's feeling?

(_regret, regret, regret_)

Didn't she want to wait and hear him say it back?

(_no, rejection hurts_)

Is that what she thought?

Exactly one week later, he asks one of his closest friends about Sakura's whereabouts. He is given remorseful faces. (_What the hell are they about? What happened to her_?!) He is informed that two weeks ago, one week before his and Sakura's meeting, she had been told that she had two weeks to live.

Two weeks…

Two weeks…

(_too short a time_)

It's hard for him to accept it, but Sakura is dead. She is no more. There will be no more gluttonous glances at her eyes, or greedy touches of her skin, because she is gone.

He wants more, so much more, but he will get nothing—

(_nothing, nothing, nothing_)

—because he is a glutton, and he has had too much already.

He will have to move on alone, because it is necessary.

(he doesn't want to go on without her—

(_no, no, no_)

—but he will have to)

He won't hurt too much, hopefully, because he never loved her anyways. (This is what he tells himself)

No, it was never love.

He tells himself this, and one day he hopes to actually believe it.

And so he lies, and he lies, and he lies…

(_liar, liar_)

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**_Owari_**

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Authoress' Note: Yes, that thing that she gave him was her virginity. And yes, this is rather sad. And yes, the titles should be something like: Glutton, or greedy, but that's hardly as catchy as Liar, Liar. If you're not crying your eyes out, then please review.

Alright, no, I don't know how Sakura died. Use you imagination, and come up with whatever you want.

(P. S. I read a SasuSaku fic (Hello, Hello, it was called) by AGENT REN. So, here. I tried to pull of your parenthesis style with the repetition. Sue me.)

(P. S. S. That was the first thing I have ever written that is close to a lemon. Yeah, it was nothing to graphic, but it was a goo start, ne?)


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